Absolute Fear
by Lady Lex
Summary: The sequel to "Left For Dead". When one of the kidnappers shows up at PPTH, House & his team are torn between their loyalty to Wilson and their obligations as doctors.
1. Chapter 1

**ABSOLUTE FEAR**

**Part One**

Over the next few days, Wilson was slowly starting to feel better. House and his team were taking extra-good care of their friend. More so House, Wilson noticed. The others would come in to take his temperature and check his vitals and Morphine level then leave, but House was in his room almost every minute. He even fed Wilson his meals since Wilson's hands were still bandaged. This was surprising. It was the sort of thing that House would make his team members do. Then again, House wasn't about to run and hide from his best friend.

"I'm drawing the line at sponge baths," House told Wilson one day, as he fed him his lunch. Wilson laughed and a smirk played at the corner of House's lips. He was glad that House was there, just being himself. It made Wilson feel normal again. He didn't mind when the others came in to say hi, especially when both Cameron and Cuddy would wish him well with a kiss on the cheek everyday. It made Wilson realize just how close he was to everyone. Especially House.

It wasn't long before Wilson regained part of his strength and found his voice. Finally, he could ask the questions that had been burning inside him since the day he woke-up there.

"How… how did you find me?" Wilson asked House, as he swallowed the last bit of applesauce that House fed him.

"I didn't." House replied, tossing the empty applesauce container into the nearby trashcan. "We were all running around here like chickens with our heads cut-off when you didn't show up for work." House explained. "You should really call the next time you're going to be gone for so long. I nearly ran out of Vicodin, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Wilson smiled at House's sarcasm. "But who was it? Who found me?"

House stood up and limped over to the other side of the bed to check the Morphine levels again.

"Some woman, out walking her dog," said House. "Well, it was the dog who actually found you. She let Rover off of his leash and I guess he sniffed you out and ran into the field where you were left."

"Was I… dead?" Wilson asked, carefully. He was certain that he had to have been dead at some point.

"Almost," House answered. "When you were brought in here, you were out cold and you barely had a pulse. You're damn lucky, Wilson. Another few hours in that field and you _would_ have been dead."

Wilson knew he was lucky. He also remembered that Marissa hadn't been so lucky. Tears formed in his eyes. He hadn't told anyone the entire story of what had happened to him. It was so difficult to talk about.

"I don't think they found your girlfriend yet," House mentioned and the tears fell from Wilson's eyes. He wiped then away with a bandaged hand.

"She's dead, House," Wilson said, a sob escaping his lips. "They killed her. They killed her right in front of me."

House's expression didn't change, but he had a sympathetic look in his brilliant blue eyes. He wasn't good at the whole sympathy thing, even if it was for his best friend.

"Well, try not to worry too much," House said, leaning on his cane sideways. "Given your past history with women… well, I'm sure there will be others."

Wilson was not the least bit worried about meeting other women at the moment and probably wouldn't be for a long time, but he was grateful for House's semi-supportive words.

Just then, Robert Chase knocked on the door and then peeked his head inside. House spun around to face him.

"The officer is here to speak to Dr. Wilson," Chase announced. His accent seemed a lot stronger than usual but Wilson decided it was only because he hadn't heard it in a long time.

"You moron!" House shouted at Chase. "I told you, _no cops_!"

Chase was about to speak, but the officer stepped forward into the room.

"Sir, it's important that we speak to Dr. Wilson right away," she explained. "While the incident is still fresh in his mind."

"Incident?" House repeated in disbelief. "_Incident_? Is that all it is to you? He was practically _dead_ when they found him! I don't call _that_ an incident. I call that a crime!"

"We know that, sir." said the officer. "That's why we have to talk to him. So we can catch the person or people who did this."

Wilson's heart sank and he felt scared again. So, Glenn and Dave were still out there. He hoped they would be caught before they put someone else through what Wilson had experienced.

"So if you'll _excuse_ us," the officer said, raising her voice.

"No!" Wilson called out as House and Chase began to leave, House with a scowl on his face. "Dr. House stays. He needs to know exactly what happened to me in order to properly treat my injuries.

The officer reluctantly agreed. House sat next to Wilson on a chair, leaned over and whispered, "Nice one!" Wilson beamed.

"Dr. Wilson, I'm Officer Linda Gables," she held out her hand and Wilson showed her his bandaged ones. Looking slightly flustered, she pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled something down on her notepad.

"I want you to tell me _everything_," Gables emphasized. "From the beginning. Every small detail. You never know how important it could be to our investigation."

Wilson nodded and proceeded to tell Gables everything that had happened to him from the time he arrived at Marissa's house until he woke up in the hospital. House listened intently, in complete disbelief of all that Wilson had gone through. He could hardly believe what his friend has endured and lived to tell. He was slightly impressed.

By the time Wilson had finished, he was sobbing uncontrollably and the tears were flowing. It was heart wrenching to remember and go through it all again. Plus, with Marissa being dead and missing, it was even harder.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about the van?" Gables asked.

"All I can remember is that it was black and looked brand new." said Wilson.

"What about the men who abducted you?" Gables pressed him. "You only know for sure that there names are Glenn and Dave?"

"Yes," Wilson insisted. "Glenn was about six foot two and kind of thin. Dave was shorter and stockier."

Gables wrote down the information. "Anything else?"

"Only that this Glenn guy seemed to be the ringleader. And Marissa knew him. He was her ex-boyfriend before me. And she told me that he had turned violent towards her and that is why she broke things off with him,"

Gables wrote down what Wilson said. Wilson was unable to sign the statement so House, seeing as he was sitting there the whole time, signed it for him. Gables then gave each of them her business card, told them she'd call them with any news and for Wilson to call her if he remembered anything else, then left. House threw the card in the garbage. Wilson put his on the bedside table.

"Did you sign as Greg House or James Wilson?" Wilson inquired, since House had forged Wilson's name before on his prescription pad.

"As you, of course," House replied, but Wilson knew he was kidding. "I do have experience at that. Plus, I don't think Gables is half as anal as Tritter was."

They fell silent for a moment, House trying to envision the torture Wilson had described and Wilson going back over every detail in his mind. That was when he remembered something he had not yet asked House.

"House?"

"Yea?"

Wilson searched for words. "Is everything… okay? He motioned towards his midsection. "You know… _everything_?"

House grinned, understanding. Wilson flushed.

"He's bruised up some, but Mr. Happy is in perfect condition, otherwise. He popped up to say hello this morning," he said, enjoying Wilson's embarrasment. "But I wouldn't play with him just yet. He needs his beauty sleep."

Wilson blushed and looked away.

"Good thing we bandaged your hands-up." House added. "Or we may have to use restraints."

"I'm sure I'm old enough to resist the temptation," Wilson said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh really?" House raised his eyebrows. "Tell me that a week from now."

He left the room and Wilson tried to go to sleep. If it wasn't for the morphine, he suspected he wouldn't have slept at all. He kept having nightmares and visions of Marissa's dead body still missing. And now he had something else on his mind. Would Glenn and Dave ever be caught?

* * *

A few weeks later, Wilson was feeling great. Well, at least physically. His bruises and cuts were healing well and he finally got to take the bandages off of his hands. Luckily, Wilson was left handed and his kidnappers had done the most damage to his right hand and arm. So he had to keep that arm in a sling, while he exercised his left hand and fingers. Glenn had only stepped on them, so they weren't too badly damaged. His right hand and fingers were a work in progress, though.

Wilson was also allowed out of bed. But because he'd had a bullet removed from his leg and he was still a bit shaky, he had to walk with a cane. House just about split his gut when Wilson hobbled into the room to see what he and his team were working on.

"Dr. Wilson, you look… good." said Cameron, shooting House a dirty look.

"How are you feeling?" asked Foreman, ignoring House.

Before Wilson could answer, House had stopped laughing and sat down with his team as they all stared at Wilson.

"How _ironic_!" House threw back his head dramatically. "Yes, pray tell us, Wilson old-boy, how does it feel to be a cripple? How does it feel to be _just - like - me_?" The words rolled off his tongue like water down a spout.

"I won't be crippled forever," said Wilson, holding his head up high. It wasn't unlike House to have a good laugh at his expense. "This is only temporary."

"Too bad, really," House pretended to pout. He got up and stood next to Wilson. "I mean, don't we look _cute_ together?"

Wilson struck a pose with his cane that was so incredibly House-like, the rest of the team cracked-up. House looked at Wilson's pose.

"I don't look a thing like that!" he exclaimed. "For one thing, the expression is all wrong." He scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Well, I guess nobody can perfectly replicate the hotness that is me."

Everyone groaned.

"So what are you guys working on?" Wilson inquired, changing the subject. "Anything interesting?"

"If you find a botched circumcision interesting, then yea," House answered, matter-of-factly.

"Aside from that, nothing," Chase said. "The most exciting thing that's happened here so far is _you_."

"And House tells us you get to go home tomorrow!" Cameron expressed, excited.

"Aw, I wanted to tell him." House whined.

Wilson smiled brightly, with happiness.

"It will be so great to sleep in my own bed again." Wilson sighed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" House demanded as he popped two Vicodin into his mouth and swallowed them with little effort. "You live in a damn hotel!"

"Well," said Wilson, shrugging. "I'm used to it. So it is like my own bed."

"Did you know there's an outbreak of bedbugs?" House asked. "They find them in hotel room beds, underneath the mattresses. You're not going back there. You're coming straight home with me."

Everyone looked at House in surprise. This had nothing to do with bedbugs. He was worried about Wilson and didn't want him to be alone.

"Come on now, nobody wants bedbugs brought to the hospital," said House. "You know they can travel in pant seams."

Wilson nodded at his friend in acceptance. As he left the room, he mouthed a "thank-you" to House and got a rare smile from him.

* * *

House decided that Wilson should rest for two more weeks. By that time, he'd be able to walk without the cane, House told him. 

"I thought you liked being twins." Wilson remarked.

"Nah, I can't have you cramping my style." House declared, smirking.

Wilson could only shake his head. But he _was _enjoying himself at House's place.They watched Steve McQueen movies all night, accompanied by beer and pizza, watched reruns of _24_ and _The L Word _and then a large variety of other lame shows that they laughed and poked fun at. They even came across a few old episodes of _The O.C. _and House made a comment that Peter Gallagher's eyebrows made Wilson's look pretty. It was like old times.

Even though they were both tired, neither of them barely got any sleep for the first little while. Wilson was having awful nightmares and would sometimes wake-up screaming. House would groan, get out of bed, prepare a warm cup of milk for Wilson and sit with him until he calmed down. He had given him a sleeping pill every night, but they didn't seem to be helping. He would wake-up anyway. Sometimes from nightmares, sometimes from a dripping tap in the washroom or kitchen that reminded Wilson of the old barn he had been locked in. House was starting to tire of having to go around the house every night before bed, tightening dripping taps. But there was no way that he was going to make Wilson go back to that old, boring and lonely hotel room. As much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed having Wilson over. He didn't feel so bored and alone.

Right about the time Wilson was ready to go back to work, the nightmares became fewer and further between. They were both relieved, because Wilson had thought seriously about going to a shrink and House had thought seriously about suggesting it.. But he didn't and thankfully, Wilson would be fine.

House awoke Monday morning to the sound of a blow-dryer. Wilson, no doubt, drying his hair, getting ready for his first day back at PPTH. He was actually looking forward to it.

House grunted, got out of bed and downed two Vicodin with a stale glass of water on his night table. Slipping on his bathrobe over his boxers, he limped into the room where Wilson was drying his hair in front of a mirror, where he always had before.

"Did I wake you?" Wilson asked and House grunted in reply. It was obvious that House was in a foul mood. Being woken-up by Wilson screaming in fear was one thing -- being woken-up by Wilson blow-drying his hair was another.

"There's a surprise for you in the kitchen." Wilson said.

"I HATE surprises!" House barked at him, but went into the kitchen anyway. Wilson shut the blow dryer off just in time to hear House say, "I LOVE surprises!"

Wilson had taken the liberty of getting up earlier than usual that morning to make pancakes for House. He remembered how much he loved them and he had already taken such good care of him, it was the only way Wilson could think of to thank him. He peeked into the kitchen and saw House enjoying an overly large stack of pancakes, one mouthful at a time, moaning in joy with every satisfying swallow.

Wilson had already eaten his share, which had been a much smaller stack. He went into the washroom to get dressed and as he was doing up his belt, he noticed that he had to buckle it up two holes tighter than before. He'd obviously lost a lot of weight. He observed himself in the mirror, turning this way and that. He _did_ look a lot thinner. His right eye was still a bit red and puffy, but hardly noticeable. He moved a lock of hair away from his ear and noticed that the scar from the cut was still there. His other cuts had fully healed without leaving any permanent scars, but this one hadn't. You couldn't see it. Wilson's hair covered it completely. He decided that he would just leave it, even though he knew he could get free plastic surgery to remove it. It would be a reminder. Not that he would ever forget what had happened to him, but the scar seemed to hold a sort-of sentimental value. It would somehow keep Marissa's spirit alive . With this mark, Wilson wouldn't feel like she had died in vain.

Wilson straightened his tie and went into the kitchen. House was putting his dishes in the sink. Wilson figured _he_ would be the one who'd have to wash them later, but he tried not to let it bother him.

"Well, now to dig up something for lunch later," said House, opening the refrigerator door. Wilson smiled. He had taken care of that as well.

"I don't know how you can still think of food after polishing off those pancakes." Wilson said.

"I'm a growing boy," he declared. "I need my nourishment."

Surprised, House pulled out two neatly wrapped packages from the fridge, each containing two plastic containers and a bottle of juice. One was labeled "Greg" and the other, "James". Wilson shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for House's reaction.

"Well Wilson, now I'm just going to have to marry you!" House joked as another rare smile spread across his face. Wilson laughed and said, "You're welcome. House."

* * *

Wilson was glad he got his vehicle back. He dreaded taking the bus and he was in no condition to climb onto House's motorcycle and get to the hospital that way. 

Once there, he headed to the Oncology Department and stepped into his office, slipping on his lab coat. It didn't look much like his office anymore. Everywhere, on every table and chair, there were plants, flowers, teddy bears, balloons and "get well soon" cards. Wilson managed to move most of it to one side of his office, tying some of the balloons to his chair and arranging a few cards and teddy bears on his desk. Wilson had a big pile of file folders on his desk which meant only one thing: Paperwork, and a lot of it. He checked his appointment book and saw that he had no patients for at least a week.

_Cuddy must've taken the liberty to reschedule them,_ he thought, disappointed. He wanted some other human contact besides House. He wanted to write on his prescription pad for someone other than House. And did Cuddy actually think that it would take him a whole week to catch-up on paperwork? Wilson decided to go and speak to her about it.

On his way to Cuddy's office, he caught a glimpse of House and Chase in an examination room with a patient. He slowed down so he could hear part of the conversation. House looked bored. Chase looked annoyed.

"When did the headaches start?" Chase inquired. When the patient answered, Wilson gasped. And then, out of absolute fear, he urinated right there on the spot. The front of his pants were soaked. He knew that horrible voice anywhere. It was _Glenn_!

**End of Part One**

_Author's Note: Sorry if this part was a little boring. But there were things that had to be said and explained. The next part will be much more exciting, I promise! Please keep your reviews coming! They make me smile!_


	2. Chapter 2

**ABSOLUTE FEAR**

**Part Two**

House noticed Wilson standing outside the door only moments later. He was completely white, whiter than his lab coat and he was frozen on the spot. But the only thing House noticed was the wet spot on Wilson's pants. He figured that he must have spilled coffee or juice on himself and he couldn't resist making a crack about it.

"Damn, that Cuddy!" House expressed. "Is she wearing that short black skirt with that super low-cut pink blouse again? I mean, I've heard of wet dreams before, but not in the middle of the day!" He chuckled.

Wilson managed to move off to one side and clutched the wall. He started hyperventilating. He felt like his shirt and tie were strangling him. He slid to the floor, gasping for air.

"Jesus, Wilson, it was just a joke," said House and crouched down to observe his friend. "Wilson? What the hell is wrong?" House realized that Wilson was _not_ joking around and that he was in serious distress.

"Chase, get your ass out here!" House called as he loosened Wilson's tie and undid the top two buttons on Wilson's white-collared shirt.

"What's going on?" Chase inquired as he looked, concerned, at Wilson.

"I don't know!" House retorted. "I came out here and made fun of the spill on his pants and he went all _Alien_ on me!"

Chase grabbed a nearby wheelchair and they hoisted Wilson into it. Then they wheeled him to an examination room, three doors down from where Glenn was. Glenn had tried to see what the commotion was all about, but couldn't, since he was hooked up to an IV and couldn't get out of bed. It didn't even occur to him that Wilson could have been somewhere in the hospital, because as far as he knew, Wilson was dead.

In Wilson's room, Chase was getting Wilson some doctor's scrubs, while House gave him an oxygen mask.

"It's just a coffee stain," said House. "I'm sure it will dry."

"It's not coffee, House," Chase said as he removed Wilson's pants and saw that his boxer shorts were wet also. "It certainly doesn't smell like it."

House took a sniff and wrinkled his nose.

"It's urine," Chase told him, though he had already figured that much out.

"Are you telling me that Wilson just pissed himself?" House demanded.

"It looks that way." Chase answered.

"What could've made him do that?" House wondered out loud.

"Maybe he has bladder or kidney damage from… well, from what happened to him," Chase suggested.

Wilson was shaking his head.

"We checked that already, dumb- ass!" House snapped.

"It could be a bladder or urinary tract infection," Chase hypothesized. "Has he been using the washroom a lot, lately?"

"What am I , his nursemaid?" House was yelling now. "How the hell should I know? It's not like I keep a record book on how many times a day Wilson takes a piss!"

"I just figured that since he was staying at your place, you may have noticed something like that." Chase explained.

"Well, I didn't," said House, lowering his voice again. "So you figured _wrong_!"

At this point, Wilson had taken the oxygen mask off and tried to catch his breath on his own.

"It's him; I know it's him!" Wilson cried. "I know that voice, it's him! Help me, Chase!" He tugged at Chase's lab coat as Chase tried to put the mask back on. Wilson pushed it away, stubbornly.

"Him who?" House asked.

Wilson started hallucinating. Everyone's face started to look like Glenn's, with the black mask over his eyes. Then, he started to envision and worse, feel the pain all over again.

"No, stop!" Wilson was screaming. "Get away from me! Stop! No, don't hurt her! Please, just let me die!"

"Get Cuddy!" House barked and Chase hurried out of the room to find Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine. When they returned, House had given Wilson a mild sedative and he was starting to calm down.

"I don't want to die," Wilson was talking very slowly and very quietly. "I don't want to die." He looked at House. "House, help me. They're going to…" Wilson closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"What's going on?" Cuddy asked. "Is Wilson alright?"

"For the time being," House replied. "First he pissed himself and then he had a panic attack."

"Well, why?" Cuddy inquired, confused.

"Gee, I don't know," said House sarcastically, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Could it be because he was kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath? Jesus Christ, Cuddy, are you _that_ dense?"

It took more than insults from House to get Lisa Cuddy going. She simply ignored them. She was used to them.

"I meant what brought it on?" she rephrased. "What caused it?"

"Panic attacks are usually pretty spontaneous," said Chase, looking at Wilson. "There isn't always a cause or reason for them to occur."

House and Cuddy looked thoughtful for a moment.

"However, he _did _have an accident beforehand," Chase added. "And something must have set that off."

"It was fear." House suddenly concluded.

Chase and Cuddy looked at House in question and confusion. What could Wilson possibly be afraid of here at PPTH? He was among friends. House was annoyed.

"Didn't you ever see that movie _Ransom_?" he asked and they nodded. "Remember when Mel Gibson was talking to Gary Sinise and his son was in the hallway? As soon as he heard Sinise's voice, hence his _kidnapper's_ voice, he pissed himself. Because he was scared that much." House finished, proud that he had figured it out.

Chase looked at the clipboard in his hand while Cuddy still looked confused.

"Well, it's plausible," she agreed. "But his kidnapper isn't here…?" It was more of a question than a statement.

"Uh… House," Chase said, looking up with wide eyes. "What did Dr. Wilson say were the names of the kidnappers?"

House pressed a finger to his temple, thinking.

"Glenn and Dave, I think," he replied. "Why?"

Chase tapped his finger on the clipboard. "That patient who was admitted, the one who passed out and was complaining about chronic headaches," Chase said. "The one we were just talking to?"

"What about him?" House demanded, impatiently.

"This chart," Chase swallowed a lump in his throat. "It says: _Patient Name: Glenn Edgar. Admitted by: Dave Dowling._"

Everyone in the room, including House, froze. It couldn't be.

"There's no proof---" Cuddy began.

"Shut the hell up, Cuddy!" House shouted. "What more proof do you need? Wilson obviously walked by and heard the bastard then… lost control! Are you stupid?" House limped to the door as fast as he could.

"Where are you going?" Cuddy inquired, notably irked at House for telling her to shut up _and_ calling her stupid.

"I'm going to go and save us a heap of paperwork by killing that bastard and his friend." House declared, angry.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Cuddy questioned him. "Bludgeon him to death with your cane?"

House looked thoughtful.

"Well, I was just going to put my hands around his scrawny little neck, but I like your idea better." he said.

"House." Cuddy warned and he sighed and leaned against the door frame. They were all silent again, looking at their friend sleeping on the bed.

"What should we do?" Chase asked carefully. "I mean, we can't… _treat_ this guy."

"Yes we can," Cuddy told him. "And we have to. We have obligations as doctors to treat every patient who comes into this hospital."

"Fuck obligations!" House cursed. "That prick can die for all I care!"

"Just do your job." Cuddy said. "I'll take care of the rest." And with that, she was out the door.

"Hah, easy for her to say," House forced a laugh. "She gets to sit in her office and pretend to be important while we are left to pick up the slack. This bites!" He exclaimed, irritated and downright ticked off.

"She's right, though," Chase sighed, defeated. He didn't want to help Wilson's kidnapper anymore than House did. "We took an oath, House."

"My oath is hereby void," House announced as if making a speech. "My loyalty to Wilson, however, still stands." Before he left, he turned to Chase again. "And if anyone makes me go into that room, I swear to God, I'll kill that patient." He limped away defiantly and Chase knew that there was no way in hell that House was ever going to change his mind.

* * *

"I'm not sure about this," said Cameron, after Chase had explained to her and Foreman what had just gone on in the hallway of the ER. "I know what Dr. Cuddy said is true, but don't we have an obligation to protect Wilson, too?" 

Nobody said anything. They didn't have to. The look in their eyes told Cameron that they agreed with her, completely.

"As long as this Glenn stays in that room and Wilson stays in the Oncology Department, it should be okay," said Foreman. "There's no reason that they should ever have to cross paths. And from what Wilson said, this guy probably thinks he's dead." (House had already told them the exact story Wilson had told the officer, so they knew exactly what had happened to their friend).

Chase and Cameron nodded in agreement.

"We should tell this to House," Cameron suggested. "I mean, we need him on the case."

"You know House is too stubborn to change his mind," Chase reminded her. "We're on our own. We'll just have to try and _think_ like House."

Cameron and Foreman gaped at him as if he had just suggested the impossible. And he had. Sure, they could listen to House, obey him and hang on his every word, but could they actually _think_ like their elusive boss? Who knew how House's brain worked, anyway?

* * *

When Wilson awoke some time later in the ER, it took him a moment to remember what had happened. He remembered having to go and talk to Lisa Cuddy. He remembered walking down the hallway, then stopping to observe House and Chase (more so Chase) talking to a male patient with flaming red hair. Then he remembered that voice. That horrible, malicious, evil, unmistakable voice. The voice of Glenn. 

Wilson shivered and pulled the blankets up to his chin as if trying to protect himself from some unseen force. Somewhere in that hospital, in that so-called Safe Haven, was a psychopathic killer. The man who tortured Wilson to the point where he begged for death. The man who raped and killed Marissa right in front of him. And the man who had left him for dead in the middle of nowhere.

He looked around the room. He saw his black dress pants draped over a chair and remembered, shamefully, that he had wet himself out of pure fear at hearing Glenn's voice. He never would have thought it possible, to be scared that much that he'd lost control.

When House came into the room to check on his friend, Wilson immediately started shooting him with a million questions.

"Where is he? Is he in restraints? Did you call the cops? Did they come and arrest him and his twisted little friend? Did they?"

"Actually, he's about three doors down, free as a bird." House replied, frankly. "I believe his twisted little friend is in the Waiting Room." House didn't know why he was so nonchalant about it. He should have lied at the risk that the truth may induce Wilson into having another panic attack.

But he didn't. Instead, Wilson hid his face under the blankets and gave a whimper. House yanked them off and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Wilson, they're not going to get you," House said, his voice laced with irony. "They think you're dead, remember?"

This brought no comfort to Wilson. At this point, he'd rather _be_ dead that three doors down from his kidnapper.

"But what if they find me?" Wilson whined, trembling at the thought of having to face them again. "They'll come after me again, House. They won't stop until I'm dead. For good. Finish the job, you know?"

"Oh, they'll stop," said House, "they'll have to. As soon as we-or _they_- know what's wrong with him -besides his being a psycho- Cuddy will be putting him in restraints and calling the cops. She said she'd take care of it."

"What's _wrong_ with him?" Wilson repeated, now angry. "Don't tell me you're actually going to _treat_ him? He belongs in the Mental Ward in a straight jacket! _There's_ your diagnosis!" Wilson spat.

"Well, according to Cuddy, we have obligations as doctors and we should just do our job." House relayed what Cuddy had said, hating every word.

Wilson sighed and buried his head in his pillow.

"If it makes any difference, I'd prefer to kill him than cure him," House said, sincerely. "I mean, it's not my fault that Cuddy's being a bitch. Hmm," he added, thoughtfully. "I always knew she had a thing for Bad Boys."

Wilson was not in the mood for House's dry humor. But deep inside, he even knew Cuddy was right about doctors having obligations. Wilson had never turned down a patient in all his years as a doctor. How could he expect House to do it?

"Just do what you have to do and call the cops." Wilson told House, feeling defeated. "I don't want to hear about it. I don't care."

"I'm not on the case this time, Watson," House attempted another joke. "But I'm sure my minions are. The best we can hope for is that the cock-sucker has an inoperable brain tumor and that he'll die a slow, painful death."

Wilson's face was still buried in the pillow, but House heard a small giggle. Wilson never wished anything like that on anybody, but in this case, he'd make an exception.

He sat up and looked at House. A small bit of empathy flickered in House's eyes. Wilson was grateful, but he was getting a little tired from all the sympathy and pity everyone was still showing him. It had been over two month already and it was getting to be too much.

"I need to get out of here," Wilson said, getting out of bed. "Clear my head. Go for a drive or something."

"That makes two of us," said House. He didn't want to be there anymore than Wilson did.

"Actually, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go alone this time." Wilson said. He felt bad not asking House to come along, but then knew that he'd understand. If anyone knew about the need to be alone, it was House.

"Alright then," House shrugged and did understand. "Just don't be gone too long. And make sure you use the back exit or you may run into that twisted little friend of his." House liked using Wilson's phrase for Dave.

Wilson nodded, did up his shoes and hurried out the back doors. He looked pretty silly in blue scrubs, a white lab coat and black dress shoes. But it didn't really matter. Nobody would see him anyway.

Wilson drove for what seemed like forever. He found a mini-mall with a quaint little coffee shop at the corner and decided to stop, get a coffee and browse through the windows of the shops that were there.

Wilson took his coffee black this time, enjoying the bitterness of every sip he took. He was glad to be far away from the hospital, far away from Glenn, far away from anyone. But why did he still feel so sad? Wilson realized that he was sub-consciously trying to run away from everything. He may have run from Glenn and work, but he still carried the emotional pain. There was no running from that. Sooner or later, he'd have to face-it, head-on and begin to heal. It would take time, but Wilson knew it was the only way to ever feel normal again. He was scared that even though he'd eventually get over it, he would never feel completely normal. It felt as though Glenn _had_, in fact, taken his life. Not by killing him, but by permanently damaging his heart and soul. The scars on his body would never compare to the emotional scars. He would have to live with the images of his ordeal for the rest of his life.

Wilson came across a Pawnshop and saw a black, glittering object, shining in the window. It was a gun and it called to him, somehow. Wilson pressed his face against the glass and started at it, intently.

_That's it, _he suddenly thought. _That's the answer. The only way to end the pain._

Wilson checked his wallet and was glad that he had enough cash to buy it and that was just what he did. He also bought a box of bullets. He really only needed one. If he did it properly, he'd only need one shot. He got in his car and loaded one bullet in the gun. He sat there, staring at it for a long time. It mocked him, But it was his destiny.

**End of Part Two**

* * *

_Author's note: Okay, I know that nowadays you can't just drive up and buy a gun at a Pawnshop. But I can't exactly have Wilson purchase a gun and have to register it and do whatever else that needs to be done. Talk about boring! I also want to dedicate this fic and the other one to Glenn and Dave who made my life a living Hell for over a year. LOL! I look forward to more reviews. So until the final chapter, enjoy!_


	3. Chapter 3

**ABSOLUTE FEAR**

**Part Three**

Cameron, Chase and Foreman ended-up spending most of the day with Glenn, much to their dismay. And he was a horrible, rude patient. He flirted with Cameron, shamelessly, called Foreman that horrible "N-Word" and told Chase that he looked more gay than the actors on _Queer as Folk. _He was making it harder and harder for them to want to figure out what was wrong. They were starting to feel like House. They didn't want anything to do with him.

They did all kinds of tests on him, trying hard to ignore his boorish behavior. And then, as if by a miracle, what they found brought them comfort. It shouldn't have, though. Glenn had an inoperable brain tumor, the size of a large fist. They didn't know what to do next. They didn't know how a psychotic patient would react to the news that he was going to die. And he only had six months at most, to live.

"Could this explain why he did what he did to Wilson and Marissa?" Cameron asked.

"Possibly," replied Foreman. "But then what's his friend's excuse? I think he knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he abducted and hurt them."

"It's not right," Chase said, shaking his head. "To feel good about our discovery. This is the kind of thing we hate to tell our patients. But I can't help it."

Cameron put a hand on his shoulder. "I know." she said. "I can't feel sad, either. It's like… like he _deserves_ it."

The others nodded, slowly. This was the worst case they had ever had. It was an easy diagnosis and they hadn't needed House, but now they felt they did. Surely, he would know what to say. Either that or he would confirm the fact that he was glad that Glenn was going to die, too.

"Well, we have to tell him," Cameron said. "He has a right to know."

"He gave-up his rights the minute he hurt Dr. Wilson," Chase said, banging his fist on the table and knocking over his coffee cup. "We don't owe that bastard _anything_."

"We just ran a bunch of tests on him," Foreman pointed out. "He's eventually going to start asking questions about what his test results indicated."

"And _what_ did they indicate?" came a voice from the door. It was House, leaning on his cane and looking at his team.

"I thought you didn't want to hear anything about it." Chase said, surprised.

"Well, you solved the case," House replied. "I just want to know if I what I told Wilson was true. Is it an inoperable brain tumor that's going to kill him?"

"Yes, actually, it is," Cameron said. "How did you know?"

"Chronic headaches and violent tendencies," House answered. "It's not rocket science, you know."

"House, if you already knew this, why didn't you say something?" Cameron was a little upset that they had gone through a whole bunch of crap with Glenn when they really didn't need to. "We just wasted a whole day doing unnecessary tests!" All eyes were on House.

"Do you have any idea what that ass put us through?" Foreman inquired.

"Don't you _dare_ make this about yourselves," House warned them, his eyes full of anger. "I don't give a rat's ass what he did to you. Because I'm sure it doesn't compare to what he did to Wilson. Don't _ever_ forget that!" House stared at them until they finally all looked away, ashamed.

House was right. This wasn't about them at all. They had done what they had to do, now the rest was up to Cuddy and the police.

"I guess we should tell Dr. Cuddy, then," Chase decided. "She said once we had a diagnosis, she'd take care of him."

"Yea, yea, we'll tell her in due time," said House. "First, _I_ get to tell him he's dying and put the restraints on him. Then we'll leave him to think about it for tonight. Maybe a little longer."

Nobody objected to this suggestion.

"I just want to know one thing," House added. "Are you certain it's a brain tumor? Because I really didn't realize that Mr. Edgar _had_ a brain."

Everyone laughed and they followed House out the door and to Glenn's room. When they got there, Dave was with him and they were having a good laugh about something.

"Well, you're back, finally," said Glenn and then pursed his lips and looked at Cameron. "Did you miss me, my love?" Cameron scowled. House was slightly amused.

"I'm Dr. House," he introduced himself, because he hadn't before. He looked at Dave. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Dave obeyed and reluctantly left the room.

"I've seen you before," said Glenn, looking bored. "You were with this fag this morning. Then you ran out of the room." He nodded in Chase's direction. House was not amused this time. "What the hell kind of a name is _House_ anyway? Do people live in you or something?" he laughed, almost maniacally.

"What the hell kind of a name is _Glenn_?" House retorted. "Do people run through the grass in your valley?"

The others laughed at this and Glenn gave them really horrible look, like he wanted to kill them. They instinctively took a few steps back from the bed.

"So what's the story, already?" Glenn demanded answers. "Am I dying or what?"

For a moment, House didn't say anything. He had an idea. He wanted to see if it was possible for this man to feel any sort of remorse. Because House didn't like feeling happy about someone dying, even it was a murderer. It wasn't right.

"It's cancer," House said, which wasn't a complete lie. "We're going to have to turn you over to the Oncology Department."

Cameron, Chase and Foreman all looked confused. They knew House was up to something, but what? Was he thinking of putting Glenn and Wilson face to face? They waited with baited breath to see what he'd say next.

"Fine. Then what?" said Glenn, not looking the least bit afraid of the word "cancer".

"We'll see what Dr. Wilson's opinion is," House said, grinning. "He'll know what kind of meds to put you on. Oh wait, I forgot," he snapped his fingers and Glenn's eyes grew wide at the mention of Wilson's name. "He's missing. Damn, that's too bad. He's the best oncologist we had."

They all looked at Glenn, who just sat there and smiled. He didn't look the least bit sorry. He looked overjoyed. He thought he had done what he had set out to do in the first place.

"Don't you have other oncologists?" Glenn asked. He still looked way too happy for somebody who thought he had murdered two people and just found out he had cancer. House fought the urge to smack him across the face as hard as he could. He made a fist and his knuckles turned white. Anger boiled his blood, fiercely.

"It won't do any good," House said through clenched teeth. "You're going to die, anyway. You haven't got a hope in hell. And you deserve it, you fucking son-of-a-bitch!" The words were cold and cruel. House then lunged at him and at first, the team thought he was going to beat Glenn to a pulp. There was a struggle, and a moment later, Glenn was in restraints.

"What the hell is going on?" Glenn demanded. "Why are you doing this to me? Why am I in restraints? I want to speak to your superior!"

"Shut your mouth!" At last, House couldn't hold it in anymore. He smacked Glenn across the face as hard as he could. Then he spat on him and limped out of the room, without another word. The team left as well, as Glenn's screams of protest for being restrained echoed through the ER.

* * *

Wilson returned to the hospital in the evening, when he knew there would be less people around. It wasn't too long after House and the others had left Glenn's room, when Wilson entered. Glenn was too busy struggling against his restraints to even see Wilson walk-in. Wilson stood there, his hand in his lab coat pocket, fingering the gun. This was the first time he had seen his kidnapper without a mask on. He was a plain looking man with red hair and an acne-scarred face. He waited, calmly, until Glenn finally looked up and did a double take. 

"You!" he exclaimed.

"Surprise!" Wilson said, smiling. He was amazed at how calm and cool he felt, despite the fact he was looking Marissa's killer straight in the eye.

"Why that little liar," Glenn said. "He said you were still missing! Hah! I bet he was the one who found you, though I don't see how. I guess you were right," he added. "Your little doctor friends came and rescued you. Oh well," he shrugged. "At least they'll never find Marissa. So I did get _one_ consolation prize." His smirk was too much for Wilson. He felt the anger building up inside him like fire. The fact that Glenn was calling Marissa's murder a consolation prize hit every one of his nerves like lightning. He didn't care one bit.

"Are you stupid?" Wilson said, almost amazed. "They'll _find _Marissa. You must know that we have your record on file here, complete with your address."

Glenn was not worried about the hospital having his address. But he could see that he had provoked Wilson. Satisfied, he once again began to struggle against the restraints. Wilson forced himself to stay in control, even though the pain of loosing Marissa cut through his heart. Just hearing her name was hard enough.

"You see?" said Wilson. "You shouldn't have been so sloppy. You should have finished me off properly. Because now the shoe is on the other foot. _I'm_ the one who's in control of your destiny now." Wilson prepared to withdraw the gun from his pocket.

"Does it look like I really care?" Glenn asked, rolling his eyes. "I mean, what are you going to do, really? You're weak, Doctor. You begged us to kill you. That's not what I call control. That's completely losing it!"

Wilson faked a laugh.

"Still singing out that same old tune, are you?" he said, sarcastically, and finally withdrew the gun. Glenn stopped struggling and stared at Wilson. He didn't look the least bit afraid that there was a gun pointed at him. "Well, you'll soon be singing a different tune. It's called _**HIGHWAY TO HELL**_!" Wilson screamed at the top of his lungs and the next thing he knew, House and his team were in the room, with a huge array of onlookers outside of the room. Everyone in the ER had heard Wilson.

"Wilson…" House began.

"Stay out of this, House," Wilson warned. "This is not about you. This is between me and Glenn."

"Go ahead, Rich Boy, shoot me," said Glenn. "You're little doctor friends already told me I'm going to die anyway."

"Not quick enough if you ask me," Wilson spat. "Why wait when I could kill you right now?"

"Well then what are you waiting for?" Glenn snapped.

Wilson's finger trembled on the trigger. Glenn laughed. He knew Wilson couldn't do it.

"Wilson, stop this," House tried to talk him out of it. "If anyone is going to shoot him, it'll be me. Give me the gun."

Wilson ignored House. He wanted to pull the trigger, but his hand felt frozen.

"You know, Wilson, it would be better if you let him live," House tried again. "If he lives, he'll suffer. He'll suffer from the brain tumor and with the memories of what he did to you and Marissa. If you shoot him, you're giving him the easy road out. You don't want that." he declared with certainty. "Wouldn't you sleep better knowing that he was locked away somewhere, just waiting to die?"

"He doesn't deserve to live another minute," said Wilson and tears fell from his eyes. "It's the only way, House. It's the only way to end the pain."

"You're stronger than that, Wilson." House continued. "You know a wise man once told me that dying is easy; living is hard."

Wilson stood there for a long time, motionless. He knew who had said that to House. _He had._ Finally, he lowered the gun and House quickly took it from him and handed it to the officers who had just arrived. They were in the room with Dave, who was sobbing like a little girl, bound with handcuffs. Another officer was ushering the rest of the staff away from the room. They allowed House and his team plus Wilson to remain in the room.

"I knew you couldn't do it," Glenn taunted Wilson. "You doctors are all alike! You think you're in control of everyone's life but you can't even kill someone when it really matters! You're emotions make you weak-"

"Our emotions make us _human_!" Wilson snapped. As he looked at Glenn, he could never remember hating anyone so much. He still didn't feel like he had accomplished anything. Aiming the gun should have been enough, but it wasn't. Wilson still felt incredible emotional pain.

"This isn't fair," he said to House. "He's never going to feel sorry for what he's done. He just gets to sit in prison and wait to die. So what. He still gets the easy way out."

House sighed, feeling bad for his friend. "It's out of your control now, Wilson. Just try to be happy at the fact that he can never again do this to anyone. And think of your strength. You lived through all that," he said, putting a hand on Wilson's shoulder. "and that's something, Wilson. That's really something."

They watched as Officer Gables was about to undo Glenn's restraints, when Wilson got a crazy idea. He had to have some kind of relief and he knew just how to get it. He walked up to Gables and whispered in her ear.

"I really don't think I can allow that," said Gables. "I mean, we're taking him in, Dr. Wilson. He's going to prison."

"Please, just let me have the satisfaction," Wilson pleaded. "Nobody will ever have to know."

Gables whispered into the other officer's ear and he laughed.

"I'd like to see that!" he exclaimed. "I say it's okay." He looked at House. "Close the door and draw the curtains. What happens in this room stays in this room, understand?"

House and the others nodded, though they hadn't the slightest idea what Wilson wanted to do, until he asked for House's belt. House gave it to Wilson, as Gables removed Glenn's socks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Glenn shouted, knowing exactly what Wilson was going to do. "Are you crazy?"

"You don't have the right to make that judgment," Wilson said, impassively.

"You're not actually going to let him do this are you?" Glenn asked the officers. "I'll report you to your superiors!"

"Go ahead," said Gables. "They don't usually believe psychopaths."

"You don't even know what you're doing, Doctor," Glenn said, stalling for more time. He was shaking slightly.

"I do too," Wilson insisted as he got in position. "And I know more about the anatomy of the foot than you do, so I'll be returning the favor, _ten-fold_."

With that, Wilson lifted the leather belt and made contact with Glenn's right foot, in the exact perfect spot. The cracking sound made everyone cringe and Glenn shrieked in absolute agony. Then Wilson did the same to other foot, getting the same reaction. Wilson was glad to see that tears and sweat were pouring down Glenn's face. Finally, he felt normal again.

House was applauding and laughing. Everyone waved to Glenn as he was carried away in handcuffs.

"Wilson, I've got to hand it to you," House said as he re-buckled his belt again. "You've got balls."

"Way to go, Dr. Wilson," said Chase and the others nodded in agreement. They left shortly after, glad that they would never have to deal with Glenn again.

"Well, what do you say to some Steve McQueen again tonight, Wilson?" House asked, as they left the hospital, arm in arm.

Wilson smiled and raised an eyebrow, "Are you talking about that mouse of yours or the movies?"

House chuckled and returned the smile. "_Both_."

**The End**

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you are satisfied with the end. This is not my last House fic, I assure you. Keep your eyes peeled for another one, coming soon! _


End file.
